Night Oct. 3rd 2013

She waits like a melting flake

Hanging from a street light

With shivering patience

To cross over,

One step into the road,

Head swinging like an arctic fox,

Before quickly pulling it back again.

She holds her hand out

Like a tiny curled up baseball mitt

And grins her paper plate grin

Before whipping it tight to her ribs

As though her favourite toy

Would be stolen

When the pennies are dropped inside.

The leather mask looks as though

It has been repeatedly

Used as a sail on a once vibrant ship

Billowing in past days across vast oceans

And has now been crumpled up

And put back in the old cellar

Only to be used as a tarp

On rainy days, perhaps.

And then on pleasant days

She curls up her nose

Like a tiny mouse

And I wonder if she is

Sniffing a way out of the black hole

Of her tortured mind

To seek comfort,

Before stripping down to her nickers

In a Laundromat full of people

And humming a merry tune

While she rinses in the sink.

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